The Consequences of Wanderlust
by Rasiaa
Summary: Dean wanders like the wind, Sam decides. And it gets him into a lot of trouble, turns out. And Sam's new family is slipping through his fingers, his life turning around all over again. Sequel to Thirteen Years, so read that first.


_WARNING: There are triggers here. Mentions of suicide, illness, some underage content. If you don't like it, back out now._  
 _The underage tag is because Sam's a persistent bastard, but there's no actual underage content, I swear._  
 _This is a sequel to "Thirteen Years" and you'd better read that first because you will understand nothing otherwise._  
 _Title is subject to change because I don't know if I like it or not and it's only once I tried to post this that I realized it's been titled as "Thirteen years sequel" on my network drive all this time. If you have a better suggestion, send it my way, please and thank you._

* * *

Dean wanders like the wind, Sam decides.

The week after spring break, Dean had left a note on the kitchen table and was gone when Mary and Sam woke up. John still hadn't returned from hunting the trickster.

Mary started to cry.

Sam's heart had burned with bitter disappointment.

 _Mom, Sammy-_

 _I found a hunt in Indiana. I've got Cas with me. I'll call at some point._

 _Spoke with Dad; he'll be back soon. I'll see you later._

 _-Dean_

…

And Sam sits now with Jess and Andy on the swing set in the park next to their elementary school.

He's staring at the setting sun, listening absently to the exuberant chatter of his friends, rocking lightly back and forth on the swing, his toes buried in the dirt. His shoes are somewhere else in the park under a tree, but he can't bring himself to be concerned.

"Sam?"

He hums, glancing over at Jess and Andy, who are staring at him expectantly. He clears his throat. "Sorry," he says, laughing awkwardly. "What?"

Jess rolls her eyes and Andy frowns. "You never pay attention," Jess accuses. "I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall."

"Hardly," Sam scoffs. "I just…"

He doesn't know what to say, really.

He's spoken to Dean a precious few times in the past few months. He's always busy, always in another state whenever they talk. And apparently John hasn't seen him on his travels, either. Sam's getting worried.

Because it's been nearly a month with no word.

Jess touches his arm. "Is it your brother?" she asks gently.

Her eyes are wide and concerned. Andy shuffles off the swing and kneels in the dirt so he faces Sam properly. Sam swallows.

"He could be dead," Sam admits, looking down at his bare toes. "His job is very dangerous. And it's been nearly a month since we heard from him last."

"Sorry," Andy says, and Sam smiles shakily at him.

"It feels foolish," Sam says next, eyes drifting again. He loses focus. "I barely know him."

Jess shakes her head. "But you want to," she says.

Sam nods.

The stars are coming out as the sun continues to sink. Purple and pink color the sky in the west, and in the east, dark blue and gray. The colors swim in front of his eyes, and it's all he can think about.

…

John is at his apartment the next night.

He drops his duffle next to the door, smiling at Sam and pulling Mary into his arms.

They maintain a relationship, long-distance, mostly. When they're together, his parents can talk all night, sharing stories and memories, and he has found himself falling asleep to the sound of their laughter more than once.

But Sam also knows that John sleeps on the couch, that they only call each other every couple of days when John is out.

Thirteen years is a long time, and though they're still technically married, they're not really husband and wife anymore.

Sam can live with that.

"Have you heard from Dean?"

Mary's voice breaks Sam from his thoughts, and he stops filling out the paperwork his teachers need for his promotion to high school. He presses the pencil to his lips.

"No," John says. He doesn't sound concerned.

Mary sighs. "It's been a month," she says sadly, and Sam hears the abrupt crack as John drops what sounds like a glass against the floor.

"Oh, fuck," John swears, and there's a bit of scrambling as John continues, "You haven't heard from him in a month?"

"Here's the broom," Mary mutters. Then, "No," she says. "No calls or anything."

The glass is swept up and then John jogs over to his duffle and digs around for his phone. He flips it open and it makes soft beeping noises as he messes with it. He puts the phone to his ear.

John stares at the duffle as he listens, frowning. Then he takes the phone from his ear and presses a few more buttons. Brings the phone back up.

Sam's heart is in his throat.

"Cas?"

John sounds relieved. Sam releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Mary comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Sam leans back into her hold automatically.

"How's Dean?"

John listens intently to whatever he hears on the phone, and then nods. "Can you make it back here soon? We're awfully worried."

Mary's arms tighten.

"Of course," John agrees. "See you soon."

"Well?" Mary demands as soon as John hangs up.

John drops the phone into his duffle and sighs. "Dean has been sick," John says. "Cas kept healing him to no avail, and then they realized he'd been cursed. Cas had broken the altar about an hour ago and was sitting with Dean. His fever broke about a minute before I called, so they'll be here as soon as Dean's feeling better."

Mary releases a heavy breath, leaning her forehead on Sam's hair. "I don't think I could bear it if he had died," she says thickly.

John's countenance softens. "I don't think any of us could," John agrees.

…

Dean hasn't felt this shitty in years.

Cas runs his cool fingers over Dean's forehead again, humming faintly.

Dean turns into the touch, trying to breathe. His fever isn't natural, so he has no choice but to wait it out.

He opens his eyes into a dark room, Cas barely visible against the moonlight shining through the curtains on the motel window. "Hello, Dean," Cas whispers, smiling in obvious relief. "How do you feel?"

The room is swimming. He groans in answer and weakly reaches for Cas' wrist. "Bed," he rasps, then, after a moment's consideration, "water."

Cas nods, pulling away. "Of course, love," he says.

Dean's hand falls back onto the duvet, eyelids fluttering. He watches Cas move to the sink and can make out the sound of running water better than he can make out the image of his boyfriend.

He feels a bit heartsick.

He blinks, confused, and jumps when Cas' fingers brush his hair back. "Sorry," Cas murmurs, wrapping his arm around Dean and lifting him. Dean swallows back a wave of nausea and opens his mouth when Cas presses the glass to his lips. The water is cold and he tries desperately to get as much as he can, but Cas pulls it away. "Slowly," Cas soothes.

He manages a few more sips of the water before he turns his head to the side, pressing his cheek to Cas' chest. Cas puts the glass on the side table and climbs into the bed, curling around Dean, who sighs in relief. He loses the battle with consciousness after that.

…

Sam is stunned when he spots his brother's Impala in the pick-up line on his last day of school. Heart leaping in his chest, he races to it. He checks in the front window and meets his brother's gaze, tired and weary, but wonderfully alive. Sam moves away and hops into the back seat, tossing his bag to the other side of the car.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean greets, turning around in his seat to peer at Sam.

"Hello, Sam," Cas says, revving the engine of the car and pulling out of the line to leave the school.

"Hi!" he responds. "You alright, Dean?" he asks.

His brother grunts, settling properly back in his seat. "I'll be fine," he says.

"S'good to see you," Sam says, leaning forward. "Been worried."

Dean snorts. "Fever ain't gonna kill me, kiddo."

"It got close," Cas interjects, earning a death glare from Dean. Cas ignores it.

"What were you doing, anyway?" Sam asks. "A curse? You must've been hunting a witch, right?"

Dean shakes his head. "No, actually. Wasn't hunting anything at the time, but I was targeted, all right. Was fine one morning, woke up with a fever of 104 the next. Cas tried to fix it, and it worked for a few hours before I crashed again. Haven't been able to leave a bed for weeks. Shelled out way too much on a motel room for a month."

"How'd you find it, then?"

"We didn't," Cas says. "I stumbled on an altar not far from our motel after getting a hint from one of my old allies. I knocked it over and broke everything, and when I returned to Dean, his fever had finally broken."

Sam furrows his eyebrows. "Are you sure it's over?"

Cas shakes his head. "We don't know. We're hoping so."

…

To say that Mary is thrilled when Dean wanders into the apartment behind Sam and Cas would be the understatement of the century.

John sags into the couch with relief, smiling at Dean with genuine affection. Dean responds to this look with befuddlement, accepting the hugs from Mary while staring bemusedly at John as he returns his attention to the television.

Dean mutters something to Cas in Enochian, casting glances around the apartment. Cas nods, drawing Dean close. "You got an extra room?" Dean asks tiredly.

"You can sleep in my room," Sam offers immediately. Dean glances at him.

"Can't do that," Dean says. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

"With Mom," Sam answers, not even thinking about it. He sleeps next to Mary whenever she's hurt from a hunt, whenever her nightmares are too much or whenever he's sick, whenever he worries himself into the ground. It's a fairly regular occurrence.

Dean's eyebrows shoot into his hairline, but he makes no comment.

Sam regards his brother for a moment. "I'll show you?" he offers, nodding his head to the hallway.

Dean sighs. "I can get a hotel, Sammy," he responds. "I-"

"John can sleep with me and you can take the couch like you usually do, sweetie," Mary interjects, and everyone looks at her.

Cas, finding absolutely no issue with this arrangement, nods his assent. "Thank you," he says.

"Mary…" John starts, and she looks at him, a strange look in her eyes that Sam doesn't recognize.

She raises her eyebrows, and he sighs. "Alright," he agrees. He glances around. "Who wants dinner?"

"I'm not cooking," Dean declares, tugging Cas over to the couch. Cas sits down and Dean sinks into his hold. Sam finds himself wishing for something like that. Something so easy, so open. Dean has no question that he has someone to come home to.

"Wouldn't ask you to," John retorts, "I was thinking pizza?"

Sam grins and Dean gives John a thumbs up. "Sounds good," Mary agrees.

"Want to go order it?" John asks, looking at Mary. She smiles, a slight thing, and reaches for her purse.

…

Sam is then left with Dean and Cas.

He sits on the other side of the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them.

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean asks, opening his eyes. "Any plans for the summer?"

Sam shrugs. "Andy and Jess want to go to the fair next weekend," he says. "Then the movies."

Dean huffs a laugh. "Never been to either of those," he muses. "You let me know how they are, yeah?"

"You want to come? Meet my friends?" Sam asks, suddenly overcome with excitement. He tries not to let himself hope too much, though.

Dean rolls his head back onto Cas' shoulder. His arm comes up and he cups Cas' cheek, getting the angel's attention. "Dean?" Cas hums.

"What do you think, babe? Wanna go and meet Sammy's friends at some overly mundane fair and then the movies?"

Sam kicks his brother in the leg, and Dean jumps, snickering.

Cas laughs softly at their exchange and nods. "I would like that."

Sam lights up.

…

Next weekend comes around pretty quickly. Sam is shaking with his excitement, and Mary laughs as she runs her fingers through his hair. "I hope you have fun, baby," she says, pressing a kiss to his temple. Originally, she was going to join Sam and his friends, but when she heard Dean and Cas were going, she decided to sit this one out, trusting her older son. Dean had smiled faintly, a light pink tint to his cheeks and dusting over his ears when he heard that.

It's three hours before Sam has to leave, but he woke up at the crack of dawn, hardly able to slow his racing heart. He had thrown back the covers and gotten ready, and now he's sitting at the table, waiting for Dean and Cas to wake. They're entangled together on the couch, their blanket half on the floor and the television flickering with the images, a low hum of sound lulling the atmosphere.

"Thanks, Mom," Sam returns, looking up at her with a smile before looking back at his brother. Mary follows his line of sight, and she laughs lightly.

"Want me to wake them up?" she asks gently. Sam shakes his head.

"I know Dean's still not feeling well," Sam murmurs. "He should sleep as long as he can."

Mary nods, humming a little.

They both glance to the side when John comes down the hall, yawning. He smiles at them tiredly and heads straight for the coffee maker. "Make me some?" Sam asks, and John grunts his assent. One thing that Sam has learned is that his father cannot communicate without coffee and a shower.

Mary pulls away from Sam and goes to her husband, kissing him briefly as she opens the cabinets to grab mugs. "Should we make some for Dean and Cas?" she asks, and John shrugs. Mary pulls down two more mugs.

A soft "Good morning," makes Sam turn, and he sees Cas gently rousing Dean, running his hands over his arm and back to wake him.

Dean blinks himself awake, immediately giving Cas a kiss. It's another one of those automatic things that Sam finds himself marveling over. Sam glances away when it becomes clear that they don't plan on doing anything other than kissing for at least a few minutes. He gets up and joins his parents in the kitchen, leaning on the counter in front of the sink.

His life has changed so much.

…

"Sam!"

Jess rushes at him out of nowhere, nearly knocking him over in a hug. He laughs and exchanges a look with Andy, who rolls his eyes. He hugs her back.

Dean snickers at Sam's expense, and this attracts Jess and Andy's attention. They look at Cas and Dean, questioning. "Jess, Andy," Sam says, his excitement coming back, "This is my brother, Dean, and his boyfriend Cas."

He points to Cas and Dean in turn, and they both incline their heads in acknowledgement. "Pleasure," Cas says.

"Hi," says Dean.

Jess grins, slightly strained, Sam notes in confusion, reaching out to shake their hands. Andy follows suit. Dean must catch onto Jess' expression, because he shrinks away from her. Her eyes soften.

"Sorry," she says. "I, ah." She stops, sounding nervous.

"Don't like fags?" Dean guesses, his voice unpleasant. Sam's eyes widen, Jess flushes in apparent shame, and Cas wraps his arm around Dean's waist, grip tight enough to likely bruise. Dean hardly notices.

"I won't hold it against you, or anything," Jess explains hurriedly, "I just - it's not right."

"If you're referring to the Bible," Cas says coldly, "I'll think you'll find that there is no being in heaven that actually believes that."

"How would you know?" Jess responds, suddenly sounding belligerent, and as Cas opens his mouth to reply, Dean slams his hand over Cas' face, laughing awkwardly.

"Let's just do this thing, okay?" Dean asks. "Cas and I will keep well out of your way, Jess. Spend time with Sam, and don't hold me against him."

She nods jerkily, taking Andy by the arm and entering the fair. Sam lingers, ready to apologize, but Dean waves him off, releasing Cas as he does so. "I'm used to it," Dean says.

Sam is horrified.

…

The rest of the day consists of a semi-hostile atmosphere that makes Sam angrier by the minute. Dean and Cas even sit away from them in the movies, leaving Sam horribly disappointed. They didn't participate in the fair, they don't speak to Jess or Andy.

And neither do Jess nor Andy make any attempt to speak to them.

When the movie is over and Dean and Cas head to the restroom, Jess pulls Sam back. "You didn't tell me your brother was homosexual!" she hisses, face red and eyes wild. Andy winces.

"Why does it matter?" Sam returns, wrenching his arm from her grasp. "He's my brother. I don't care if he loves a boy."

"He'll go to hell for it," Jess says, sounding mournful. "I don't want that for anyone."

"If I go to hell, Jessica, it won't be for homosexuality," Dean says suddenly, causing her to jump, her eyes shifting guiltily.

Jess turns to Andy, whose eyes widen. "And what do you think, huh? You've not said a word."

He shrugs, looking pained. "I can't say that it matters to me, Jess. I'm sorry."

Her lips thin.

Sam scowls, "You can forget about me if you want to treat Dean this way," he says resentfully.

"Sammy…" Dean says, sounding agonized. "Don't. I'm not worth that."

Sam turns to Dean, astonished. "You are," he insists. "And besides, I don't want to be around someone who will hate someone else for no damn reason."

"I don't hate him," Jess retorts. "I just hate what he's doing. It's wrong."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing Dean's arm. "Let's go home," he murmurs, brushing past her. "I'll see you later, Andy," he calls over his shoulder.

…

"I couldn't believe it," Sam finishes, exhausted and sullen. Mary looks no better after he tells her what happened.

"I wouldn't have expected that from her," Mary confesses, obviously disappointed in her. "She seemed like a nice girl."

He feels tears in his eyes and is glad that Dean is out to dinner with Cas. Dean would've hated to see someone upset on his behalf, Sam has inferred.

Dean thinks very low of himself, and it makes Sam sad to see. He can sometimes catch Mary thinking on it, too, but John ignores it.

"Sweetheart," Mary murmurs, pulling Sam's head forward to press a kiss to his brow. He closes his eyes and soaks in his mother's affection, ignoring, for the time being, that he's fourteen now. "I'm sorry about Jess," she says quietly, rubbing her thumb over his cheek.

He shakes his head. "I'd rather have Dean," he whispers, and he can feel her smile against his skin.

"Me too."

…

"You've been staring at me for ten minutes, dude. What?"

Cas doesn't blink as Dean speaks, mouth full of the burger he's eating. To his embarrassment, some sauce drips down his chin. He swears, scrambling for the napkin, blushing to his roots despite the fact that Cas has seen this behavior a million times before.

"Are you alright?" Cas inquires, leaning forward slightly, dark blue eyes wide and shadowed in the dull light of the booth.

If it were possible, Dean feels himself blush even further. "I'm fine, Cas," he says, scowling.

Wisely, Cas doesn't push it. Instead he says, "I love you."

Dean puts his burger down, the heat spreading from his face down to his neck. "Love you, too, Cas," he says. Cas smiles slightly, reaching for Dean's hand under the table and tangling their fingers.

"Do you want to watch that new show later? Friends, was it?" Cas asks, head tilting.

Dean laughs slightly, knowing for a fact that Cas has no interest in television, but puts up with it for Dean's sake. He shakes his head, pressing the toe of his boot to Cas' ankle and sliding it upward. Cas' eyes flash. "How about a board game?" he asks. "We'll get a hotel for tonight?"

Cas' mouth tilts up, something possessive and raw in his expression.

"Can I get you a refill, sir?"

Dean looks up, jerking slightly. Cas turns lazily to the waitress. "No. Just the check."

She eyes their mostly-full plates dubiously. "Want those to go?" she asks. Dean nods quickly. "Alrighty. I'll be right back," she says, turning away and walking off.

Cas' hand tightens around Dean's. He looks up to find Cas' eyes already on him. He swallows, Cas tracking the movement.

Dean fumbles for his phone, pulling away. Cas leans back in the seat.

"Mom?" Dean asks as the phone stops ringing. She hums.

"Found a hunt. I'll be taking off tonight. We'll see you at some point, yeah? Put Sam on the phone?"

"What?" Mary asks, sounding shocked. "But…" He can practically see her unhappiness. "I can't stop you from going," she sighs eventually. "Just… be safe, okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, Mom," Dean agrees. He's already sick of her babying and he's barely been in touch with her for five months. "Where's Sammy?"

"Sam!" Mary calls, her voice turned away from the phone. Dean can hear Sam's yell in response. "Dean's on the phone!"

There's the sound of pounding footsteps and then panting breaths. "Hi, Dean," Sam says.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean answers. "Cas and I are taking off tonight. We'll see you later, okay?"

"What?" Sam demands, much more intense than Mary. "Dean, if this is about Jess -" he starts. Dean cuts him off.

"I told you I'm used to that," Dean says dismissively. "This is about saving people. Hunting things. You know?"

Sam sighs. "Okay, then. I'll see you later," he says, morose.

"Cheer up, little brother. I won't be long."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, okay," he says.

Dean's heart aches a little. Sam is already so attached to him. It's dangerous. "Bye, Sam."

"Bye." The phone clicks.

Dean closes his phone and finds Cas has already paid, their food packaged and in a bag. "Come on, love," Cas says, standing. Dean follows, taking the food and pulling out the keys to the Impala.

As soon as they're locked in the car, Dean leans over for a kiss, cupping the back of Cas' neck, kissing hard enough to bruise their lips. Cas doesn't seem to mind.

He pulls away and drives out of the lot, then down the road, heading in the opposite direction of the apartment. It's lucky that he's got their stuff already, he muses as he watches the sun sink below the horizon.

…

The motel they pull into in Iowa, not far from the border, is dirty and the sign for it is flickering. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes as he pulls the keys from the ignition.

"There is actually a case about twenty miles from here," Cas offers, and Dean doesn't question how he knows that. He just nods tiredly and gets out of the car.

It's nearing three. He's got his duffle and Cas has his. He follows Cas absently as his boyfriend checks them in, noticing with relief that the man behind the counter looks too bored and tired to even blink at Cas' request for a full or queen and not two twins. He just nods, marking things with his pen and handing Cas a key.

"Thank you," Cas mutters, and the man grunts.

Dean trails after Cas as he leads him back outside, luckily, to the room the Impala is parked in front of. His lip curls as he notices the bugs attached to the wall and the door. Cas doesn't seem bothered, but Dean hustles his way in before they move, not wanting them in the room.

Dean drops his bag next to the air conditioner, cranking it up to the maximum cold temperature. Cas notices this, of course he does, and sits down on the floor next to Dean's feet, opening Dean's duffle.

He pulls out the blanket they were using at Mary and Sam's. Dean looks at it in confusion. "Mary wanted you to have this," Cas explains, standing to wrap it around Dean's shoulders. "She said she had it made for your fourth birthday."

Dean pulls it closer around him, leaning his head on Cas' collarbone. He stares blankly at the air conditioner, barely feeling the kiss Cas plants on his temple, lips lingering. Cas' hand drops to his hip, grip loose, while his other hand tugs the curtains closed more firmly. "Should I set an alarm?" Cas asks quietly; Dean shakes his head and so Cas just kisses him again.

They stand there for another moment before Cas guides Dean back to the bed. They kick off their shoes as they go but don't bother with the rest. Dean turns away from his boyfriend and climbs into the bed, pulling the sheets down as he goes. He drops down on the right side, the blanket still firmly over his shoulders. Cas smiles at him, and Dean smiles back, eyelids drooping. Cas lays down, too, situating the sheets and the duvet around them. He holds open his arms and Dean scoots closer, tucking himself into the warmth and comfort being offered.

He exhales heavily, his ears getting colder as the air conditioner begins to work. The rest of him is warm as he slips off to sleep.

…

Sam's eyes open in the pre-dawn light.

He closes them again immediately, rolling onto his side and burrowing into the bed and the pillow, the comforter wrapped around him.

His mood has not improved.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, eyes closed and mind spinning uselessly, but eventually there's a soft knock on his door that he knows automatically is his mother. The door opens with a soft gust of air, and Mary leans on the doorknob, head on the edge of the door. "Sam?" she calls softly, so he opens his eyes and stares at her.

"How do you feel about a hunt, sweetie?" she asks. "I've got a poltergeist on the other side of the state."

He hums. "Sounds good, Mom. When are we leaving?"

"As soon as you're ready."

He nods and sits up, missing the heat of the bed immediately. It might be the summer but Mary keeps the air on sixty most of the time, making the whole apartment an ice box.

She flashes him a smile and closes the door.

He throws the covers back and pulls on his robe before reopening the door. He gets a towel from the linen closet across the hall and then heads into the bathroom for a shower.

…

The hunt is easy. Dean could die from the repetitiveness of salt-and-burns. They're never any fun nor are they interesting. People always react the same way and the ghosts do, too.

It takes them a day and a half, and would've taken less were they allowed to dig graves in daylight.

The road in front of him blurs. He blinks heavily and shakes his head, but it doesn't get any better and nausea begins to build. "Dean?" Cas cries, sounding alarmed, and then Dean is jolted in shock as there's the sound of glass shattering and his head hits something hard and everything goes dark.

…

The phone rings in the silence of the truck.

John pulls it out of his pocket and flips it open. "John Winchester," he says, voice flat.

Sam can't see John's expression from the back seat, but he can certainly hear the alarm as he shrieks, "What?!"

Sam leans forward and Mary's eyes flicker to her husband momentarily before returning to the highway.

"Okay," John says. "We'll be there soon."

He shuts the phone. "Pull off the next exit. Dean crashed the car and Cas can't get him to wake up. They're in Sioux City, Iowa."

Sam has never seen his mother get from the far left lane to the far right so quickly. She barely makes the exit, and swears as she has to slam the breaks because of the steepness of the turn. Sam grips the seat, gritting his teeth.

"What happened?" Mary demands, knuckles white on the wheel.

John shakes his head. "Cas said he was fine, and then he shook his head before the car veered right. They slammed into a tree, and while Cas was able to heal their injuries and get the car back up, Dean still hasn't woken and apparently it's been nearly twelve hours. He's calling one of his old allies to help, but I don't know who."

Mary lets out a heavy, shaking breath. Sam's heart is beating fast in his chest, and he feels sick.

"Will he be okay?" Sam can't stop the question from coming out.

John shakes his head, looking at Sam over his shoulder. "I don't know, son."

…

The Impala looks fine, sitting in front of the room Cas directed them to. They park next to it, and Mary hops out of the truck quickly, slamming the door and stalking right up to the door. She hesitates, looking repulsed. Sam quickly sees why, and John makes a face of disgust before banging on the door.

Cas looks wretched as he pulls it open, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and his hair a mess. "Come in," he says, stepping aside.

Dean is on the bed, seemingly asleep. He's awfully pale and sweat dots his forehead. Sam rushes over, climbing onto the end of the bed as Mary perches next to Dean. John hovers behind Mary, staring at his older son with a blank look.

Cas climbs onto the bed and sits next to Dean, running his fingers through his hair. "My brother will be here soon," he says.

Sam looks over at him sharply, eyes wide. "Who?" he asks.

Cas doesn't move. "Gabriel."

"The archangel?" Sam clarifies, slightly awed despite the situation.

Cas nods.

"That would be me," a new voice says, and everyone turns to the man sitting on the table, kicking his feet back and forth. Golden eyes and dirty blond hair catch the light, and Sam feels momentarily breathless. Gabriel's eyes move over and lock with his, and a small smirk curls at the edges of his mouth.

"Gabriel," Cas says, relieved. At once, the archangel's attention is redirected.

He hops off the table and shoos Mary out of the way, "I need to actually see him, thank you."

Mary backs away, reluctance clear, a frown on her face as she watches him anxiously.

Gabriel lays his hand on Dean's forehead. He frowns.

"A curse," he murmurs. "An old one. He's had it for almost a month."

"I thought we broke it!" Cas bursts, his distress plain. Gabriel looks up.

"Evidently not, little brother," he huffs, and trails his finger over Dean's hairline. Dean's eyes snap open and he sucks in a sharp breath, coughing. "Easy," Gabriel soothes. "Water. Here." He tilts Dean's head so he can press the lip of a water bottle to Dean's mouth. Sam has no idea where he got it and furrows his eyebrows before he remembers. Archangel. Obviously.

"Dean?" Cas asks when Dean finishes the drink.

"Cas," Dean croaks, "What happened?"

He coughs again. Cas' lips thin. "We were in a car accident. I was able to repair everything but you wouldn't wake. My brother Gabriel woke you."

Dean's eyes snap to the side, taking in the short angel for the first time. He eyes him up and down and then gives him a nod. "Thanks," he says. Gabriel smiles.

"You're welcome." Gabriel turns to Cas. "That curse is bone-deep. I haven't removed it because I don't have access to the witch who cast it. Do you know who it was?" Cas shakes his head, miserably. Gabriel rolls his eyes, popping a lollipop into his mouth. "I suggest you find them, little brother."

"Haven't fought a witch in ages," Dean huffs.

Gabriel frowns, biting at his lip. Sam finds himself captivated.

He shakes the thought away roughly, shame and humiliation rushing through him quickly and in equal measure. He can't develop a crush on an archangel.

Gabriel twitches slightly.

"Has anything else odd happened to you recently?"

Dean rolls his eyes, and Cas hushes him before he can speak. "He had a fever I couldn't heal, either."

The archangel pulls the candy out of his mouth, tilting his head back. "I'll look around. In the meantime, I'd say just keep on the down low, try not to get too stressed out. Call me if anything happens, okay?"

Then he's gone, the faint sound of wing beats following his departure.

Sam is shocked, disappointed, and relieved, all at once. What on earth was that?

…

And despite himself, he can't get Gabriel out of his head.

This is ridiculous. They spent five minutes together, made eye contact once, and didn't exchange a single word.

He scowls, glad he's alone. Dean's in the shower and John and Mary went to get food.

"Sam?"

He jumps. Okay, so, not quite alone. He turns to face Cas, suddenly a bit nervous. He and Cas don't interact much, despite them spending a lot of time in each other's company. He has a tendency to stick to Dean like glue and ground the older teen without saying a word.

"Y-yeah?" Sam responds, then mentally kicks himself. Cas looks concerned.

"Something's wrong," he says plainly. Sam shakes his head, turning away.

"Nothing's wrong, Cas," he denies.

"You're thinking about Gabriel."

Sam jolts, eyes widening. He swings back around to stare at the angel.

"What?" he breathes, and Cas smiles faintly.

"Gabriel felt it, too. It's a soul bond. Dean and I have one. They're rare, but not unheard of."

"What do you mean?"

Cas shrugs. "For Dean and I, it meant a romantic connection. For you and Gabriel, it could be something different. You won't know until you act on it."

"What else could it mean?" Sam questions, walking over and sitting closer to Cas than he ever has.

"A sibling relationship, perhaps, or a parental one. He could be your best friend, your mentor, or your lover. It doesn't usually reflect an antagonistic relationship, which is a good thing."

Sam is brimming with more questions, but Dean steps out of the bathroom in that moment, and Cas is promptly distracted. Sam sighs inwardly as Cas' eyes trail over Dean, who either doesn't notice or doesn't care as he dries his hair with the towel.

"Want to meet Dad and Mom wherever they're eating?" Dean asks. He then shoves his toothbrush in his mouth, the towel around his neck.

"Alright, love," Cas answers.

"Okay," Sam agrees.

Dean spits and drops the towel, heading over to his duffle and pulling out a shirt to tug on, followed by a flannel jacket. He zips it and pulls it over his shoulder, looking around. "We good?" he asks.

"Yes," Cas says, standing. Sam watches them exchange a kiss, then another and another, and he finally clears his throat. Dean flushes and pulls back but Cas looks annoyed.

"Let's go," Dean says, heading out.

…

Sam happens to be alone in the Impala, Dean and Cas in the store attached to the gas station, getting drinks and food.

Then he's not alone.

He leaps and leans back against the seat, eyes wide. Golden eyes peer at him curiously, barely a breath away. "Samuel Winchester," Gabriel breathes, slow and easy.

"Sam," he automatically corrects, blinking. Gabriel chuckles, pressing closer, his hands curling into Sam's hair and their bodies pressed flush together.

"You're fourteen," he says.

Sam nods, confused. Gabriel sighs, resting his forehead on Sam's shoulder. "Wish you were eighteen."

Sam's not stupid, so it barely takes him a second to comprehend what the archangel is suggesting. "I won't tell if you don't," he says without thinking, his thoughts only on the warm weight on top of him, the way his heart is racing and the blood beating hot in his veins.

Gabriel laughs, nuzzling at Sam's throat. He presses a kiss to his cheek. "I'll think about that, kiddo. And I want you to, as well."

"Haven't thought about anything else for days," Sam confesses, his hands hesitantly resting on Gabriel's waist.

"I'm sure," Gabriel agrees. "But I won't take advantage of you."

"Take advantage?" Sam repeats, tightening his grip on the archangel, who hisses and leans closer. "I'm old enough to consent. And even if I weren't, who's gonna get the jump on you?"

"You're two years away from the age of consent, kiddo, don't pull that one on me. And I have my own code to answer to."

"Screw the code, Gabriel. Break it, for me?" Sam asks, heart in his throat. He can't believe he's doing this. But he leans forward anyway, pressing his lips to Gabriel's in a messy, unpracticed kiss. In Gabriel's surprise, Sam manages to maneuver them so that he's hovering over the angel, who stares at him.

"My goodness, you're feisty," Gabriel says, laughing. His eyes flicker. "My number's in your phone. Text me, okay?"

Then he's gone. Sam sighs, dropping onto the seat. The door opens and Dean scoffs at him. "Kid, we've been on the road for an hour. You are _not_ tired."

"Says you," Sam huffs, turning his face into the leather.

"What's got you in such a mood?"

"'S nothing, Dee. Leave it."

Dean grunts and says, "Hey, Cas," as the other door opens. Sam hears them exchange a kiss before Dean turns the car on, and Sam's mind circles back to the kiss he'd shared with Gabriel. The archangel. His first kiss was with an archangel. His face burns.

…

After dinner with John, Mary, Dean, and Cas, Mary tugs Sam aside and brushes the others away when they send them confused looks. Sam gives her one, since it seems to be popular and he doesn't know what's going on either.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?" Mary asks, brushing his hair back, looking at him in concern.

Sam blinks at her, his befuddlement no clearer. "Nothing?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Something is," Mary insists, "you've been distant all day. Is this about Jess?"

He pulls his head back slightly in surprise. "I haven't thought about her," he says honestly, having not spared a thought for her nor Andy in a while. Not since…

Not since Gabriel.

He tries to control the heat he can feel trying to rush to his cheeks, but Mary looks more concerned, pressing her hand to his forehead. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I'm fine," he coughs, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Mary checks, and Sam pauses.

He does know that, logically, and with Jess and Andy more or less out of the way, he doesn't really have anyone else to talk to. Dean and Cas are attached at the hip so he can't get Cas alone easily, and even if he could, Cas would say something to Dean, and Sam doesn't really want Dean knowing about this. He doesn't know John well at all, and he doesn't think the man would be the type to receive this sort of thing well, regardless of his apparent acceptation of Dean and Cas. But does he want Mary to know?

She says nothing, obviously knowing that something is eating at him, and she knows that he'll come to her on his own time. He glances backward, at the rest of the family gathered around the table, John dishing out cards for poker. "Can we talk somewhere else?" he asks, voice quiet.

Mary nods, looking even more concerned, if that were possible, but she wraps her arm around his shoulders and guides him to his room.

The door clicks shut behind them and she takes a seat on the edge of his bed, staring at him patiently. He takes a deep breath and shuffles a bit, twisting his hands. "I kissed Gabriel the archangel," he says in a rush, hoping she doesn't catch it, but judging by the way her eyes widen, his hopes are for naught.

"You… what?"

"I'm the one who kissed him, he didn't - I mean, he wanted - but I just -"

"Whoa, Sam, sweetie," Mary says, standing and tugging him into a hug. "It's alright. Slow down, tell me everything."

So he does. He tells her from the beginning, how their eyes had met in the hotel room, to his discussion with Cas, and maybe he gets into too much detail about their interaction in the car, but that's something he'll be embarrassed by later, he decides in the back of his mind. She listens, her hand making soothing circles on his back, and by the end of it he feels like crying.

When they've been standing in silence for a few moments, Mary guides him to the bed, sitting them down on the edge. She rests her hand on his knee and says, "I hope you know that it's okay to feel like this."

He looks up from his sheets, staring at her. She raises her eyebrows and thins her lips before she sighs. "I don't think you should act on it, Sam. You're too young."

He makes a face. "Dean's been with Cas for years!"

"Yes, and if I'd been around, I wouldn't have allowed it. As it stands, Dean is eighteen now and I can't stop him. I still don't like it and you know I'd have them in separate hotel rooms if I thought I could get away with it." She sighs again, looking around his room. He watches her.

Finally, she refocuses on him. "I won't stop you from talking with him if that's what you want, and if you still want this in a while… I'll think about it."

"I know you'd have let me date Jess if she was an option," Sam accuses, hurt by this rejection and still feeling that pull to the archangel that he could barely explain to himself, never mind anyone else.

"She's your age," Mary says calmly, and Sam throws his hands up.

"And Gabriel is one of the oldest, most powerful beings in the universe; don't you think I'd be safe with him?" Sam demands.

"You met him barely a week ago, Sam," Mary says, voice firm and broking no arguments. "My answer is no."

Sam swallows, looking away. "I feel like I've known him my whole life, Mom," Sam says quietly, "and I don't think you understand. I know, and I get what you're saying, really, but…"

"This wasn't what you wanted to hear," Mary responds, voice just as soft. "And for that I'm sorry."

He just looks at her, then at the floor, feeling numb and bitter. See if he ever talked to her again.

She must sense that she's lost him for now, so she just kisses his hair, "I love you," she whispers, and walks out.

Sam waits for her footsteps to fade before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He scrolls through his contacts, and sure enough, he finds Gabriel's name, just like he'd promised. Sam smiles, then hesitates, his thumb hovering over the buttons that would open a new text box. He moves the cursor up instead, editing the contact information. Feeling foolish and young, he adds a heart to the end of the name and saves it.

Then he opens the text box.

 _Hey._

He waits.

When several minutes pass with no response, he sighs and collapses backwards onto his bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. Stupid.

The phone pings.

He sits up quickly, opening the message.

 _Hiya, Sammy._

He smiles, heart racing.

Before he can reply, a new message appears: _What do you think of space?_

He frowns. _Like, the universe?_

 _No, dummy, like my dog. Honestly. Yes, the universe. The big black area surrounding this planet._

It startles a laugh out of him before he can stop it. _I love the stars,_ he types.

 _Good._

That's all it says, and Sam doesn't get another text.

…

Dean stands in front of the mirror in his mom's apartment, heart in his throat.

He looks down at the sink again and can't stop himself from shaking.

He reaches up and runs his finger along his teeth, closing his eyes when he finds his finger slick with blood after he looks at it.

He wishes that he knew what was going on, but he's afraid.

He's faced death a thousand times, but it's one thing when you know it'll be relatively quick if you do go - blood loss or getting hit hard enough or getting shot or stabbed or something is faster, and there's no time to contemplate.

But illness?

He has enough time to feel sick with fear, to wonder about what would happen if he were to die. He thinks about John, Mary, and Sam, and feels dizzy when he realizes that they would be the ones to burn his body.

And Cas.

Cas would be destroyed.

He hears footsteps outside in the hall and grabs a plastic cup from the dispenser for rinsing your mouth after brushing, and he fills it with water. He fills his mouth with the liquid, swishing to get all the blood out of his teeth before he spits, watching as it cleans the spots in the sink.

This is his secret.

A sharp knock on the door makes him jump, having been mystified by the water, pink, going down the drain. He smiles to himself in the mirror and then opens the door when he finds no blood.

"Hey, babe," Dean greets, leaning forward to kiss Cas.

The angel leans in, too, but breaks the kiss faster than Dean would prefer. He opens his eyes to stare at Cas inquisitively. "I'm heading to heaven for a few days," he says. Dean's heart falls.

"Yeah, 'course," he says, and Cas looks at him, steady, probably knowing that something isn't right.

Dean feels a cough building in his throat, and he smiles quickly, trying to hold it back by holding his breath.

"I'll see you soon," Cas finally says, "try not to do anything stupid, okay?"

"Who, me?" Dean jokes, voice tight. Cas frowns.

Dean presses a firm kiss to his lips to throw him off, and it seems to work. Then when they separate, Cas says, "I will find out what's wrong, Dean," before he disappears.

He takes a half a second to feel alarmed before he rushes back into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it as he leans over the sink and coughs, more blood dripping from his lips.

…

Dean's eyes are open but he can't see a thing.

"Remember me?"

He twists around, the voice familiar, but he can't place it.

"No, of course not, dear."

"What?" he calls, but gets no answer.

He jerks awake, nearly falling off the couch without Cas there to ground him. The blanket falls to the floor and he shivers, staring at the blinking light on the VCR, feeling more alone than ever. The silence of the apartment chills him to the bone.

He looks to the door, at his bag, fully packed with the exception of a few of his clothes, the knife he has under the couch cushion, and the blanket he's using now.

He grabs the knife, tiptoes to the dryer and pulls out his clothes, then goes back to fold everything. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders and picks up his duffle after shoving everything into it. Then he grabs the keys to the Impala, complete with a key to lock the apartment, and makes sure it's secured before he walks down the stairs and into the parking lot.

Unlocking the car, he throws his duffle into the back seat. He walks around and gets in the driver's seat, turning on the car. The music comes on; familiar Metallica and he blinks slowly. Then he changes the radio and figures the country station that comes on is good enough.

Putting the car in reverse, he pulls out, changes gears, and drives away.

…

Sam jumps slightly when Cas appears, looking frazzled. "Where's Dean?" he demands, not even bothering with a greeting. Sam supposes that he shouldn't expect one.

"We don't know," John says, causing Cas to look over. "He vanished yesterday sometime in the night. None of us heard him leave but all his stuff is gone and so is the car so we assume it was voluntary."

Cas looks annoyed, now. "I can't find him!" he screams, pulling at his hair, and Mary jumps with a screech when the light bulb above the table shatters in a spray of sparks. John doesn't seem alarmed in the least by this behavior. "He won't answer his phone and he's gone completely off the map, which means he's warded somewhere, and with a witch on his ass I'd rather not think about the implications of that!"

The angel folds himself onto the couch next to Sam, his head falling onto Sam's shoulder as he begins to shake. "I can't find him," he whispers, broken.

Sam knows he's no substitute for Dean, but he wraps his arms around Cas anyway, allowing the angel to regain his composure while more or less shielded from observation.

Sam's phone pings, and he looks over at it, recognizing the ringtone he set for Gabriel. The two of them have spoken nonstop since their first conversation and his heart leaps whenever the phone goes off.

He reaches for it and flips it open, reading the note.

 _Dean's missing?_

Sam's lips thin but he responds in the affirmative.

 _Tell Cassie I've got some allies on the lookout._

 _By the way_

 _You never did answer my question about_

 _The whole bond thing_

 _You remember?_

Yes, Sam remembers.

Gabriel wants to test the waters, so to speak, trying things with magic that Sam has never heard of and he's not sure that he wants to do that. So he's been ignoring it, not wanting to scare the archangel away.

 _Still thinking_ , he sends, then rests the phone on his leg and says, "Gabriel is looking for Dean."

Cas practically melts with relief.

It's easy to see the affection that Dean has for the angel, but it's hard sometimes for Sam to see the reverse. He's glad, in an overly protective brotherly kind of way that he hadn't realized was a thing, that Dean is not just being used, that Cas doesn't have some kind of ulterior motive, here.

Cas pulls away, murmuring his thanks to Sam. He nods and watches anxiously as the angel stands, looking a bit lost.

"Is there anything we can do?" Mary asks, her hesitance and hopefulness plain.

He looks over at her and shakes his head. "There's nothing even I can do," Cas says, voice breaking. "Gabriel has far more resources than I, and, given that he is hidden from the Host in heaven, he has no rules to abide by, no one to answer to."

"Would he anyway?" Sam asks, intrigued, "since he's an archangel?"

"He would have to report to Michael directly," Cas says, his words steadier now that they've started to switch topics. "Michael is currently in charge of heaven, but that is a secret that very few angels are aware of."

"What?" John questions. "Why?"

Cas hesitates. "Our father has been gone for a long time. We have not heard from him in millennia."

All three Winchesters blink at this, and Cas shuffles on his feet. "Never mind," Cas says, looking around like he's never been in Sam's home before. He blinks, then turns to Sam, tilting his head. "How are you in contact with Gabriel?"

Sam flushes, looking pointedly at the floor. "He, uh, he gave me his number?" he poses it like a question, feeling a new urge to just bite his nails down to nothing and then keep going, just so he can dissolve into the floor.

Cas hums a little, then, thankfully, lets the subject drop.

…

Dean stares at the man who slides into the booth across from him, unimpressed. "Can I help you?"

"Cassie is worried sick, not to mention the rest of your family," Gabriel says, straight to the point.

He snorts, looking down at his plate and digging his fork into the pancakes. "They're better off without me," he mutters, resentful.

"And where'd you get that idea?"

Dean's eyes flash. "I'm getting sicker by the day, Gabriel. I'd rather they not be there when I finally die."

"Kid, it'll be worse if they can't say goodbye. Not only that, but I think I can manage to buy you time."

Dean sets the fork down and stares at the archangel, who stares back. Dean pulls the napkin off the table and coughs, not even surprised at the blood anymore. But Gabriel raises his eyebrows. "You need to let me help you," he implores. "Sam-"

"Sam is too attached. I met him in March. It's June, nearly July, and he will forget about me soon enough," Dean says harshly, and Gabriel's entire demeanor grows sad.

"He won't," is the response. "You never forget your family, especially your siblings."

Dean gets the sudden impression that that sentence has little to do with him, but he doesn't push it. He knows better than to pry. "Just… let me go," he begs, "I want to go to Lawrence, and I want to end it before I can get much worse."

"Dean," Gabriel pleads, reaching across the table to snag his wrists. Dean tries to pull away, but he's only human and the archangel is persistent. "There's no need to kill yourself. We'll sort this out."

"I'm scared," Dean whispers, hunching in on himself. He wonders why he's telling this to someone he's only met once before, but then he dismisses it. Telling a stranger feels better than someone he knows.

"Of?" Gabriel asks, standing and then sitting next to him, pulling him close.

"I know better than almost anyone what's waiting for me," he continues, "and I know that we've been looking for this witch for almost two months. I - hope is fading fast, Gabriel, and I feel like shit."

"You're not going to hell," Gabriel assures, "Cas won't allow it. But he's not going to allow you to die right now, either."

Dean huffs a humorless laugh. "He's not here to stop me," he says. "And I'm an hour's drive away. Even if you can reach my family before I get there, dude - you are not going to make it."

"Don't," Gabriel says simply. "Don't do this."

Dean looks at him then. "What do you care, anyway?"

"I may not know you well, but I know my brother, and I know Sam. And I know that you're trying to protect them, but, Dean, this isn't the way to go about it."

He averts his eyes, pushing away his plate. "Find the witch," he eventually says. "I'm tired of looking. I'm tired of this - this illness, of not knowing why. I'll give you another week, then I'm cutting the string."

"Dean-"

"Get up," he says, pushing Gabriel away. "I'm going back to my motel." He pulls out his wallet and tosses some bills onto the table, ignoring the stare burning into his back. He walks away.

…

"I found Dean."

Mary jumps, looking startled, but everyone else just stares at Gabriel expectantly. "Jesus," Mary whispers. "I will never get used to that."

Gabriel looks amused for half a second before his solemn attitude returns. "I managed to make a deal with him."

"Is he coming home? Where is he?" Cas demands, and Gabriel shakes his head.

"He's not coming back. If I hadn't found him when I did, he'd be dead right now." Sam sucks in a sharp breath and Cas pales, swaying. Gabriel continues as if he hadn't noticed. "He agreed that he won't kill himself if we find the witch within a week."

"What?" Mary breathes, gripping the table. Cas collapses where he stands, looking up at his brother with wide eyes. John's eyes close and Sam tries to comprehend what he just heard.

"He's very ill," Gabriel explains. "Coughing up blood, his temperature high. He's barely eating. He said that he'd rather not drag it out."

"Oh, Father," Cas whispers, then bows his head, his lips moving in prayer.

"It's a good thing that my old friend Kali found a lead last night, isn't it?" Gabriel says, a smirk on his lips.

Cas looks up. "Really?"

He nods. "I don't know that it's a witch, believe it or not. Did you hunt gods at any point recently?"

Cas, if possible, pales even further. "Yes," he says. "There was one that we encountered in Kentucky, actually. An old Mesopotamian god."

"Did you kill it?"

"I thought we did," Cas says. "But maybe there's another that we missed."

"Yes," Gabriel agrees. "I think so."

"Who, though?" Sam asks, his knowledge of Mesopotamia rocky at best.

Gabriel blinks, shrugging. "That's where we contact Kali."

…

Sam takes an instant dislike to Kali. And, of course, it has nothing to do with the way she looks at Gabriel. Not at all.

"You owe me big time, Loki," she greets, not even looking at anyone else as Sam, Cas, Mary, and John file into the hotel room after Gabriel.

The archangel snorts, "don't I know it," he says.

"He hasn't moved," she continues as if he hadn't spoken. "He's on the border of Kentucky and Tennessee. His name is Namtar, the Mesopotamian god of illness. How you managed to attract his attention, I'll never know. Nasty piece of work."

"We killed one of his friends," Cas says, voice bitter.

Her eyes move to Cas lazily, face reflecting her disdain the longer she looks at him. "Well," she snips eventually. "How incredibly stupid."

Cas growls, but Gabriel intervenes, stepping between them smoothly. "Thank you so much, my dear," he says cheerfully. "Anything I can do for you to get rid of the debt?"

"Sex," she says plainly. Gabriel falters, and Sam's eyes widen, rage and possessiveness consuming him so quickly that he feels faintly dizzy. "Like we used to have."

"Thought you were over that," Gabriel checks, looking her over.

She shrugs. "I am. I'm not interested in more than a weekend, Loki. But you're a fantastic lay. Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late!" Gabriel laughs, eyes gleeful. "How's next weekend?"

"Done."

Sam feels sick, and Mary runs her hands through his hair. Gabriel looks over at him, face apologetic, and Sam makes sure his expression is carefully blank.

He knew - dammit, he knew the archangel was a bad idea. But he fell anyway. Pushed for more.

He's never felt so foolish in his life, even though he knows, logically, that Gabriel's weekend plans next week are for his brother's life and nothing more.

He hopes.

…

Dean stares at the home he used to have with his mother and father, the car quiet around him.

It's been five days with no word.

He's so scared.

He looks away, eyes involuntarily looking at the blood-soaked rags on his lap. He feels weak, dizzy.

His phone pings.

He considers ignoring it, going through with his plans despite his agreement with Gabriel. It's not like he could do anything once it was done, anyway.

He picks up the phone.

 _Got him. 3765 Cotton Rd., Tennessee. Come meet us before we kill this son of a bitch._

Dean thins his lips, glances at the house one more time, then revs the engine of the Impala and puts her in drive.

…

Cas is pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, and it's making everyone but Gabriel antsy.

Mary clings to John and holds Sam's hand, grip maddeningly tight. Sam doesn't really mind, since her eyes are on Cas and that means Gabriel is holding his other hand, leaning on the headboard as if he's not.

There's the sound of a car outside, familiar, and Cas' head snaps to the side so quickly that Sam is amazed he didn't give himself whiplash.

The knock on the door barely has any time to resonate before Cas throws it open, pulling Dean into his arms and burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck.

Dean holds him just as tightly, scrunching his eyes closed. "'M sorry," he whispers, and Cas shakes his head.

"We'll talk later, love," Cas replies, pulling away. He stares at Dean and Dean stares right back. "I thought I lost you," Cas whispers, then pulls Dean into a kiss.

No one interrupts, but Mary's grip loosens on both Sam and John, while Sam's grip on Gabriel tightens.

When they pull apart, Dean faces everyone else, and Sam gets a complete view of what Gabriel was talking about. Dean has deteriorated so much in so little time. His wrists are stick thin and he's unnaturally pale, eyes bloodshot.

"So. Who are we killing?" Dean asks, and Mary stands, shaking her head.

"Oh, no," she says. "'We' are not doing anything. You're staying with Sam while the rest of us take this god on. You're way too sick to be hunting."

Dean looks indignant, eyes flashing to John, who shakes his head. "We'll take care of it, son," John says.

"So, what, you expect me to sit here like some damsel while the rest of you risk your necks? Yeah, no thanks," Dean snaps.

"Dean," Cas says, and Dean looks at him.

He deflates, burrowing into Cas. "This is stupid."

Cas kisses the side of his head, holding him. "This is too dangerous for you right now. You need to get better before you go hunting."

Dean pulls back, looking at Sam. He notices his fingers interlaced with Gabriel's, and his eyes widen. Only because Sam was watching so closely did he notice it, and he pulls his hand back hurriedly.

"Fine," he agrees.

…

"Since when are you hooking up with an archangel, Sammy?" Dean asks as soon as they're alone. Sam sighs.

"We're not… not really."

"You wanna be," Dean states, and Sam sighs again, this time more wistfully than he'd prefer.

"Yeah," he admits, picking at his nails. His hair falls in his face and he brushes it back absently. "There's something about him, Dean. I can't - I can't pull myself away. I barely know him and this is colossally stupid, but I just-"

"Cas was reluctant at first," Dean interrupts, leaning back into the pillows. "He knew about the bond, but because I was so young, he didn't want to act on it. Finally got him when I was fourteen."

Sam looks up, finding Dean looking right back. "It's irresistible, isn't it?" he guesses.

Sam nods. "Completely."

Dean huffs a laugh. "I get it, Sammy. Better than anyone. Believe me, it only gets worse."

"How do you mean?"

"The pull gets stronger," Dean explains. "Harder to resist."

"Yeah," Sam says, looking out the window. "No kidding."

…

It takes all of twenty minutes before Dean says, "I'm going to help."

Sam anticipated this. "Let's go, then."

Dean glances over from where he's checking his gun. "Seriously?"

"I want in on the action as much as you, dude," Sam retorts. "You get to hunt regularly. I've only ever been on like, ten hunts."

Dean snorts. "Alrighty, then, little brother. Let's go."

He grabs the keys and they head out.

…

 _Dean snuck a sip from the bottle of whiskey, winking at Cas over the rim._

 _It didn't go smoothly down his throat, and he tried to conceal his cough by clearing his throat as he put the bottle down quickly. John glanced over, but by that time Dean was already back on the bed, ankles crossed, bent over his new journal._

 _He looked up under his eyelashes once his father turned back around, meeting Cas' unimpressed stare. Dean shrugged a little and Cas just rolled his eyes, standing from the chair then settling next to Dean on the bed. Cas looked at the journal, and because it was Cas, Dean didn't bother to hide any of it._

 _He probably should have, because Cas reached out to catch a piece of paper that was falling out of the book when Dean shifted. "Cas-"_

 _Dean flushed brilliantly when Cas turned his stunned gaze to him, the paper hanging limply between his fingers. "You-"_

 _"Alright," John interrupted, standing. Dean and Cas both turned. "I'm heading to the bar. You'll be okay?" he checked, and at Cas' nod, he grabbed his keys and headed out._

 _Dean reached for the remote, but Cas gripped his wrist to stop him. "Com'on, Cas, do we have to address it?" Dean whined, uncomfortable and unprepared. "I just wanna watch TV."_

 _"You're in love with me," Cas said plainly, and Dean flushed, looking away._

 _His eyes caught onto the piece of paper, one that he had scribbled on in a moment of weakness. He'd written Cas' name - Castiel - in cursive, with stupid little hearts around it. He squirmed, not meeting Cas' intense gaze._

 _"Dean," Cas called, voice soft, and Dean glanced up, as if bound by a spell._

 _Cas leaned forward and kissed him, softly, gently, but absolutely sure. Dean's eyes fluttered shut._

…

Logically, Dean knows that a god of any kind is not something that will pose a problem for Cas. And even if it did, he has both of Dean's parents and Gabriel on his side.

But unfortunately, his heart doesn't really catch onto the concept of logic, and is beating anxiously a mile a minute as he drives down the road.

He holds a napkin to his face and coughs again, ignoring Sam's concern. He ignores the blood he can feel, sticky, damp, and warm, bleeding through the flimsy recycled napkin from the gas station store. He just presses harder on the gas and guides the car through another turn on this winding road.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he asks, voice thick and raspy.

"Are you sure about you fighting?"

He glances sideways at his little brother. Fixing his gaze back on the road, he clears his throat and then has to spit more blood into the napkin. "'Course," he says. "It's been nearly a half hour since they left, Sammy," he says. "If they didn't need us, the bastard would be dead by now."

It's been something he's avoided thinking about, but at least Sam falls silent. He regrets bringing it up when the silence is instead suffocating and worried.

He coughs again, but at least he spots the house. He leans on the break and barely makes the turn. The force of it sends Sam against the door but Dean can't bring himself to care. He's got Baby in park and the keys in hand before he can even think. Angel blade drawn, he leaves Sam behind to enter the house.

…

Sam quietly curses when the left hand turn leaves him trying to wrench his foot out from under the seat. He hadn't expected it. "Dean?" he calls as soon he realizes that his brother has slammed the door and rushed away. "Fuck," he says again, partly because the situation warrants it, partly because he likes the word.

He manages to get out. He leans down to grab his own angel blade and the stake that Dean had forgotten. He looks up, and it's quiet. Too quiet, really.

He shuts the door as softly as he can but the damn thing squeaks no matter what. He rolls his eyes and makes a note to tell Dean it needs oil. He'll probably get cussed out but Cas will see the sense in it.

Luckily for Sam, the gravel under his feet is generally undisturbed so it doesn't move much with his light footsteps. He heads straight for his mom's truck and peers inside. Nothing.

He heads around the back of the house and then grimaces. Looks like he'll be taking out the altar again.

…

It's a shitshow.

Dean barely makes it in the door before the blood hits him. He blinks in shock, lips thin. Carefully, he takes the edge of the curtain behind him and wipes the blood from his face.

"Dean?"

He turns to face Gabriel, greeting him accordingly. But the archangel doesn't look happy to see him. "What are you doing?"

"I should ask you that," Dean retorts. "How long does it take for a couple of angels and experiences hunters to take out a fucking god?"

Gabriel's mouth opens and closes for a second, but he apparently doesn't have an answer. Dean scowls.

"Wait, Dean," Gabriel says, trying to stop him as he brushes passed, but it's too late.

Dean promptly sways on the spot at what he sees.

There's so much blood.

But there are also scorch marks in the shape of angel wings.

…

 _"Cas?"_

 _Dean didn't really know what he was seeing._

 _The blood on the bottom of his favorite jeans didn't matter._

 _The tears in his jacket and his shirt didn't matter either._

 _"Dean?"_

 _He didn't blink, didn't move. The world was narrowed down to one thing - to the dark sooty wings burned onto the ground and the tips of his shoes. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other gently turned him away. The tears came fast and hot, but John understood one thing about his son._

 _And that was how incredibly strong he was. But he had a heart of glass and Cas was the protective barrier. Dean cared too much, loved too deeply. And with Cas -_

 _Dean started sobbing, pressing closer to John, who closed his eyes and guided his son to the floor so the fifteen year old could sit halfway on his lap. It didn't matter that he was way too old for this. He just rocked his boy back and forth._

…

Sam jolts in shock at the ear-shattering, unearthly scream that rips its way out of the broken windows of the house. He turns wide eyes to it and then jumps when the doors to the basement start shaking. Holding the angel blade out, he steps over the remains of the altar and pulls the iron bar so that the doors could swing open.

John and Mary, blood-splattered and wary, reveal themselves to Sam. They rear back in shock at the sight of him, and he grins slightly, waving. A twig snaps behind him and Sam turns on his toes, holding the stake high.

"You little shit," the god snarls, and Mary lets out a cry as it rushes Sam.

He barely gets out of the way, leaping to his feet on the behind the god. "You're Namtar?" Sam demands, catching the thing's attention again. John reaches out and Sam shakes his head in warning.

The damn thing smirks. "Oh, yes," he purrs. He steps lightly, and for every steps forward, Sam takes one backward. He sees his parents climb out of the basement quietly and Mary draws her own stake out of her jacket. "Didn't expect so many mortals to join the angel, but no matter. Your friends in there are dead, anyway. I thought angels were harder to kill?"

"Oh no," John breathes, and Sam finally understands the source of the scream.

Namtar grins even wider, showing his teeth. "See if you mess with us again," he mutters spitefully, and he lunges forward.

Sam flinches, but Mary is fast, burying her stake into the damn thing's chest with a snarl. He gasps, and Sam watches in fascination as the dark blood drips down his chin before he explodes. Sam recoils again, this time trying to avoid the spray, without success.

"Ugh," he mutters, shaking his arms out with his lips curled in disgust.

Mary is at his side, fussing immediately, but John is already gone. Sam can hear his footsteps inside the house before they come to an abrupt halt and the crying starts. Sam's heart breaks.

…

 _"You know, I think I'm in love with you, too. And that's terrifying."_

 _"I was never happier than when Michael told me I could stay with you."_

 _"I never knew longing before you."_

 _"Beloved."_

 _"I don't think I understand that reference."_

 _"You're too negative. Try to see the light. Have faith, Dean."_

 _"I'm glad you introduced me to this. I finally learned how to mute the taste of molecules, and now I understand."_

 _"I never knew how bleak Heaven really was."_

 _"People are stupid. But not as stupid as some other creatures I've had unfortunate encounters with."_

 _"I know what you think. But you do not deserve hell."_

 _"You mean too much to me."_

 _"I know my brothers and sisters are appalled by my behavior on Earth. But I don't care anymore."_

 _"It's crazy; the amount of liquor you consume before you're lost to it. I have to have so much more."_

 _"You're my everything, Dean. And I love you."_

…

Dean has no idea how Namtar got his hands on an angel blade, and frankly, he doesn't care because it doesn't matter.

Gabriel is hovering over Cas' body, his hands glowing gold as he tries to mend the wounds.

Dean tries to not be pessimistic about it, tries to think: _He's an archangel. If anyone can fix this, he can._

But it's hard. Because Cas has blood all over him, it's all over the kitchen, and the blade is still buried in his chest. He vaguely registers footsteps behind him before the familiar scent of gasoline and liquor washes over him. His father.

He allows John to guide him away, numb.

He doesn't know if he'll feel anything ever again.

"Dean," John says, and he turns his eyes to the man. John's lips are thin. "Gabriel will get Cas back. He did before, remember?"

Dean does remember. But miracles don't happen twice.

…

It's John who drives the Impala back to the hotel. Mary ushers her sons and the angel who holds Cas' body into her truck. Sam takes the front seat and Dean climbs into the back, laying Cas' head on his lap while Gabriel continues his work.

He strokes the dark hair back away from his forehead over and over and over again. He keeps his eyes on Cas' closed ones and pretends he's asleep.

…

Mary and John have to wrestle with Dean to get him into another hotel room with them so Gabriel can be left alone to work. It takes three full bottles of hard, raw whiskey for John to pass out on the couch in the new room, and Dean stares at him blankly, too used to the scene to be disturbed by it.

Mary guides his head onto her shoulder while Sam curls into Dean's other side, and the three of them stare at the light cast by the moon through the blinds onto the floor for the rest of the night.

…

At eight pm the follow evening there's a knock on the door.

Dean doesn't move and Sam only looks over, but Mary gets up and opens it.

Gabriel steps in, and Sam's too tired, too worried, to even be glad to see him. He's kind of numb to it all, at this point. Gabriel takes one look at the scene and his face cinches in sympathy. "Well," he says, "the good news is I got Cassie's grace back. He'll recover with time. The bad news is I don't know how long it'll take. He's frighteningly weak. Whatever blade that son of a bitch had was dipped in some kind of poison or another and while I got it all, Cassie's grace will have to do the rest."

Dean stares at him.

Gabriel looks over. "You'd better come on," he says. "Cas will recover faster if you're near."

Sam doesn't know if he's ever seen Dean move so fast.

…

Gabriel takes them all back to Sam and Mary's apartment so that they don't stay in the shady hotel room while Cas recovers. Sam forces Dean to take his room and it's a testament to how out of it he is that he barely protests. He takes the couch.

It takes time.

Sam starts high school in August, and he's minorly overwhelmed at first.

It's two days into the new school year that Jess and Andy manage to find him.

"Dude, what happened to you?"

Sam looks up. He hasn't seen them in weeks. "What?" he asks.

Jess rolls her eyes. "It's like talking to a brick wall," she says. Sam doesn't smile at the familiar line and her happiness visibly dims. "Look, Sam," she begins, "I know we left on a sour note. But I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Doesn't matter," Sam says dismissively, standing. Jess looks hurt and even Andy looks surprised. "Dean and," he falters, "and Cas, well. You won't see them anymore."

"What?" Andy asks. "Why not?"

"Because Cas is dying and Dean will kill himself if he actually dies," Sam snaps, his emotions coming in a rush so fast and all consuming that it leaves him dizzy. He starts to cry. "So it doesn't matter."

"Oh, Sam," Jess says, shocked, and he doesn't fight her when she pulls him down to her level and holds him close.

…

It takes two more weeks for Cas to finally wake up.

Dean is completely asleep next to him, but he jolts awake at the feeling of Cas' wings settling around him. It's a rare feeling that he doesn't experience often, but he will always remember it. He looks up, heart in his throat, to meet Cas' drowsy blue eyes, and he lets out a soft cry. Cas tugs him closer. "Hello, beloved," Cas murmurs.

"Cas," Dean breathes, overcome with relief. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, now," Cas assures. "How are you, Dean? Is the sickness gone?"

"Long gone," he confirms.

"Then why do you still look so ill?"

"Worry will do this to you," Dean says, looking at his hands, the prevalent veins and bones, and while he has determinedly not looked in a mirror recently, he's sure he doesn't look that great anywhere else, either.

There's a soft knock on the door, and they both look over when Mary pokes her head in, holding a sandwich for Dean. "Hello, sweetheart," she starts, and then he voice cuts out. "Oh, thank god," she breathes, coming fully into the room. She leans down and presses a kiss to Cas' forehead. "I'm so glad you're alright, Cas, sweetie," she says.

Cas looks shocked, and Dean smiles, taking the sandwich from his mother and holding half out for Cas.

…

Sam starts, turning to his right when he feels someone slide onto the bench next to him. Andy and Jess frown in confusion. "Hey, what-?" Andy says, clearly bewildered, but Sam starts grinning.

"Hey, Samsquash," Gabriel greets, his new nickname for Sam since Sam had gained a few inches on the archangel. "Figured you'd want to know that Cassie finally decided to rejoin us."

Sam just about collapses in relief, throwing his arms around Gabriel. "Thank you," he says, and Gabriel chuckles, hugging him back.

"I didn't want my little brother dead, either," Gabriel says offhandedly.

"You jerk," Sam responds. "You risked a lot, doing that. That's why you've been gone so long, isn't it?"

Gabriel is quiet. Then he says, "I've been hiding for a long time from my family, Sam. I had to reestablish those walls. Using that kind of power…"

Sam holds him tighter.

Then he leans back and kisses him, and he doesn't really care that he's in broad daylight and Jess and Andy and a bunch of other high school students are watching. Gabriel responds but he pulls away first. "You know what I said, Sam," he says. "I won't. Not unless-"

"I know," Sam deflates. He looks away. "But I don't - It's just - How can I-"

"It wouldn't hurt you, you know. Dean and Cas did it."

Gabriel's voice is gentle, quiet, and Sam glances over. "I'll talk to them, then," he mutters. "I want this, want you, but. My mom - she always warned me."

"Of course," Gabriel says. "You're only human, kiddo. It's okay. I have nothing but time."

He gets up, ruffles Sam's hair, and walks away.

"What the hell?" Andy demands as soon as he's gone, and Sam jumps slightly, having forgotten about them for the most part. Jess' face is carefully neutral, but Andy looks flabbergasted. "Who was he?"

Sam glances over his shoulder and isn't surprised to find that Gabriel is already gone. He turns back around. "Someone I never thought I'd be lucky enough to meet," Sam finally answers.

Andy looks even more confused. "But-"

"Did your teacher say anything about the early release next week?" Sam interrupts, and Jess relaxes immediately, but Andy sulks slightly.

Sam ignores both.

…

Cas is sitting at the kitchen table, Dean pressed against him so there's no air between them, when Sam gets home. He beams. "Heya, Cas," he greets.

"Hello, Sam."

"Where's Mom and Dad?" Sam asks, trying for casual, but by the looks on their faces he fails.

"Is this about Gabriel?" Cas guesses, and Dean frowns. Sam sags, tossing his bag to the floor and sinking into the chair at the end of the table.

"He wants some kind of spell bond," Sam admits, dropping his head to the table. Dean and Cas don't seem surprised.

"Is that all?" Cas asks, gently, and Sam looks up.

"Well, yeah," Sam says. "Isn't that enough?"

Cas shrugs. "It's a painless spell. A few words in Enochian, some of Gabriel's feathers, and a bit of blood from both of you, you'll be bonded completely."

"What does it actually do, though?" Sam asks, somewhat desperate.

"It creates a mental link," Dean says. "Cas usually turns it off because I'm still young, and Gabriel will probably do the same, but that's why Cas healed faster with me closer. And I got more sick when I was away from Cas."

Sam looks between them. "I'm not actually in a real relationship with him, though."

Cas snorts, rolling his eyes. "You speak daily and can barely be more than a foot apart when you're together," he says. "The rest doesn't matter. Gabriel is an archangel and bound by his own code where I am not, and I have no doubt that that's why he wants you to agree so badly. I didn't even offer it to Dean until about a year ago. You've only known him a couple of months and he said something. The bond would allow him to love you freely."

Sam feels like he's been struck. "But why would he want that? Like you said, it's only been a couple of months -"

"But I also said you both felt the bond as soon as you met," Cas points out. "You're compatible in a way that very few are."

"It's a big decision, Sammy," Dean says, reaching over and covering Sam's hand with his own. "I agreed immediately because I've known Cas since I was five. It wasn't a choice. It was a natural step further. But it's a big deal for you."

"Do you think I should?" he asks, voice small. Dean shrugs.

"Personally, I don't care whether you agree or not. I like Gabriel well enough but I won't be heartbroken if he leaves. I have a feeling you would be, though."

And that's the crux of the matter, isn't it?

…

He agrees. Gabriel lights up like the sun and the spell is quick and painless and Sam doesn't regret it for a second because it's Gabriel who tilts his head up and pulls Sam down for a kiss.

Mary and John don't know, and Sam isn't inclined to tell them, especially since he knows Mary doesn't like it and won't approve.

…

"'Bout time you showed up 'round here again, boys," Ellen greets, her smile wide, six months later.

The Roadhouse is pretty empty. It's only nine in the morning, and while they're not open, Ellen had seen them outside and let them right in.

"Hey, Ellen," John says, kissing her cheek. "How are you?"

"Doin' well. Jo's been fighting with me again, but that ain't new. Nothing ever is, around here. You?"

"Just a few more near-death encounters," Dean says, laughing slightly, and Ellen grins.

"Occupational hazard, boy," she retorts.

She casts a glance over Mary, Sam, and Cas. Then she spots Gabriel and nods to him. "Who's this?" she asks.

"Gabriel," he introduces himself. Ellen nods.

"Gotcha." She looks around. "Well, if you're gonna hang around here, you're gonna work, since I don't need lazy idiots getting in my way."

She tosses towels to each of them, and Dean and John start laughing. Cas rolls his eyes and heads over to the other side of the restaurant to get to work, while Gabriel stares at her incredulously. She catches his eyes. "Don't care if you're an angel," she says. "You're here before hours, you help me."

Gabriel grins. "Alright, ma'am."

Mary and John aren't looking and Ellen turns away so Sam pulls Gabriel in for a kiss.

Then Gabriel jerks back and swings his head around, eyes wide. "What?" Sam asks, and Gabriel doesn't answer for a few seconds.

"Just thought I saw…" he mutters. He looks back to Sam but Sam doesn't miss the way the archangel's eyes flicker to the door every few seconds.

"What?" Sam asks again, and Gabriel shakes his head.

"Nothing, Sammy," he says, and Sam knows his boyfriend well enough by now to know when he's lying.

But he lets it go because Ellen starts yelling at them and Dean's laugh rings through the air and Gabriel smirks before snapping his fingers.

* * *

 _Already thinking of another sequel because I'm hopeless trash that loves her own world too much._


End file.
